From the time I can remember, I have sung to my kids at bedtime.

I realize this is not a unique tradition, but one in our household that we treasure nonetheless. Over the years, the nightly serenade has had different iterations: Rock-a-Bye Baby (sans the “down will come baby, cradle and all”), Hush Little Baby (with made-up verses…after all, who can remember anything after “and if that diamond ring don’t shine”?) and ultimately, Lullaby.

It has remained our nightly constant and provides not only a source of comfort, but a can’t-go-to-bed-unless-I-hear-it necessity. I’ve watched eyes roll back in tired heads, I’ve been commissioned to sing it again with desperate pleading, and even been accused of skipping a verse, all in an attempt to prolong the inevitable bedtime.

But tonight’s serenade took on a whole new meaning: after 3 nights away, Lullaby from the one-and-only returned. While I believe my voice could rival a herd of sick dogs, Carter seemed to think it was quite lovely.  In his just-about-asleep voice, he uttered:

“You sing Opera.”

(That’s little boy innocence for, “Mommy, I like it when you sing to me and I missed you when you were away.”)

Suddenly I’m inspired to go empty the dishwasher (again) and fold some (more) laundry.

I had just boarded the plane, Chicago-bound for a much-anticipated girls' weekend, and took a moment to close my eyes and pray as the Flight Attendants reviewed the safety information.  While not typically an anxious flyer, it was a natural inclination to call upon Him...for a safe flight, for discernment for the flight crew, for operating machinery...for blessings over each of the passengers on the flight and each member of my family while I was away.  My prayer quickly turned to praise, as it often does, as the quiet moments with God so obviously lead me to His Grace - and His PROVISION.

God put this word into my heart a few weeks ago while having lunch with my dear friend and Pastor, Nancy (who you already "met").  No word choice is an accident with Nancy.  She is deliberate in her linguistic selection and God has so abundantly blessed her with the word (no pun intended).  Prose just masterfully, poetically, spills from her mouth with such ease and purpose...with such intention.  I could listen to her for hours describe how she cleans a cat box (if she had a cat), so imagine a seemingly simple blessing over our meal as our server arrived with our lunch selections:  This certainly wasn't the pre-school version of "Thank you Father", nor the rehearsed, get-through-the-blessing-while-our-food-is-hot prayer.  No. This was a genuine, thoughtful expression of thanks that oozed of gratitude for THIS meal...THIS provision that He had afforded us - no less important than our breakfast earlier in the day or the one Jesus shared with His disciples on the night before He died. 

The word provision has lurked in my soul since Nancy led that prayer.  I changed that day, over that meal, from the simple use of that word. I simply heard it differently. Provision extends far beyond 'providing food' or even its use in legal settings. Provision, in the deeper sense of the word, means meeting needs...supplying means.

And isn't our God faithful to do just that?  As this word has continued to unravel, I have found myself giggling over how He 'meets our needs' and 'supplies our means' everywhere!  He takes care of everything!  Even Paul reminds us in 1 Timothy 6:17:  Command those to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.  How great is this?  All that I have, all that I am, all that I get to experience, all that I feel, all that I do...is His provision for me.  It is that which HE provides...and with complete and purpose. 

While not all of His provisions are as desirable as others (like the delicious ahi tuna wrap I had that day at lunch), each one is designed for OUR good.  There are the obvious provisions, like those that came to mind during my pre-flight prayer:  the celebration of life for my friend that, in turn, provided an opportunity to connect with old friends, the group of people organizing her event, the invitation to go, the computer I have that allowed me to check available flights, the husband I have who embraced my request to go, the funds in our account to purchase the ticket and book the hotel, the warm clothes I have in my closet to wear during the cool snap in Chicago, and the sound of my children's voices on the other end of the phone saying, "I already miss you" as I boarded the plane.

While this list might easily be counterfeited for "blessings", I think it's important to note that we can call them what we may, but they are still an allowance - that our sweet Lord provides - that gives us an opportunity to experience life...abundant life...the life He called us to live. 

Sometimes we see them; often we don't.  But each provision has a purpose:  my lunch that day with Nancy satiated my hunger, provided nutrition to my body, and gave me a few hours of energy to continue His work.  But beyond than that, God provided an opportunity for Nancy and I to reconnect, discuss important work, perhaps even (hopefully) emulate Christ to those we interacted with. 

But not all provisions are that simple, are they?  They don't always come in the pretty packages I've described; rather, they often appear as uncomfortable experiences, a particularly difficult season in life, doubt, regret, indecision; the provision might be in the series of missed green lights, the event you can't attend, the child you never knew, or the pain you are experiencing watching another suffer.  Each of them, however awe-inspiring or fall-to-your-knees-inducing, are provisions for us to change or to grow, to shape or to influence, to stop or to listen. They each allow us an opportunity to glorify Him.  And isn't this ultimately our greatest purpose?  To glorify God and enjoy Him forever?

I grinned, when yet again, God put this word in my heart during my prayer on the plane.  He's working something out in me and I'm paying close attention.  I'm learning to ask less, "why me?", "why now?", "why not?" and listen more for "That's why."  This, in and of itself, is a great provision. 

And so I am reminded:

¹ The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
² He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
³ he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
⁴ Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,^[a]
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

⁵ You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
⁶ Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever. (Psalm 23)

What I'm realizing is that "provision" is knowing, that every single moment of every single day, God is deliberating orchestrating all things for our good.  It is usually far and wide and often not seen or felt; instead, it is a movement.  It is a force that is at work, all the time, to give us just what we need...when we need it.  And how freeing it is to trust that...

I have to assume there are some likenesses to Heaven and Earth.  I know when we think about Heaven, we think of it as something so much greater than anything we have ever known.

But I wonder if God actually gives us glimpses here and there…little previews to sort of “wet our palate” or offer, well, a Heaven Commercial?  Here’s what I mean:

Today was an ordinary day of “rest resistance” with Addison.  (That’s what I call not wanting to nap.)

“I’m not tired, mommy.” 

“Can we go for a bike ride?” 
“Mommy, can we go to the park?” 

Conflicted and absent objectivity (I know she needs a nap, but what’s the harm?), I stuck with my plan to lie her down before our evening adventures.  Reluctantly, she grabbed her usual suspects (Kitty, bear, bunny) and even managed to grab Scruffy (our cat – he’s real) and quickly secured her bedroom so no one could escape. 

Scruffy, the likely candidate, did manage to flee and now, met with yet another nap deterrent, Addison darted out the door for recapture.  She was successful.  (I found the escaper and the escapee halfway up the stairs, Scruffy awkward in her arms, his legs dangling down and with a look that said, in cat language, ‘she got me’.)  Now securely in place for a second time, we started the nap routine again.

“What book should we read?”  I asked. 

“The Bible,” she answered. 

Handing me her worn and tattered children’s Bible, she asked to read the Parable of the Prodigal Son (not by that name, of course).  Three nap-postponing, but time-well-spent stories later, our reading culminated with Jesus dying on the cross – interestingly her favorite story of all.  Today, however, she heard something different.  I could see it in her sweet and pure blue eyes the moment she understood that it was nails that kept Jesus dangling there.  “Ouch,” she said. 

We closed the book, but only after grabbing the nearby tube of ointment to mark the page.  “Like Ms. Jesse does it, Mommy.”  Bible ‘tube-marked’, I began singing her Lullaby.  Fighting sleep, she launched into her go-to-sleep rituals (caressing Kitty’s ear among my favorites) and began to drift.  As I gingerly rose from the bed in hopes of making a quiet and quick escape, Addison made a last-ditch effort for more time: 

“Mommy, will you rock me?” 

A Heaven Commercial. 

Like a dog digging for a buried bone, I “quickly” removed 4 pillows, a life-size fairy, and 2 other stuffed animals from the rocking chair and nestled in for what I hoped to be a long episode.  And that’s exactly what I got.  Addison, no longer my infant yet craving that same tender security, folded herself comfortably in my arms, head rested on my shoulder.  I rocked.  Slowly.  Consistently.  I allowed my anxious self to settle (after all, nap time is my to-do list time) and drifted off into my own happy place.  Soon memories filled my mind of her not-so-long-ago…baby days…late at night, in my slumber, coming to rescue her from her crib upon hearing her cry.  I lingered there while we rocked.  I smelled her hair. I rubbed her arms. They were no longer pudgy, but lean and reflective of her pre-school days.  We rocked more and I could feel the weight of an almost asleep pre-schooler.  Her fingers still rubbing Kitty’s ear, all was suddenly quiet. 

Where had time gone?  Where is it going?  Wishing to be at the next stage (more “me” time) or the previous stage (gooey, precious baby), I realized I was missing THIS stage.  Addison.  Four.  Fun, witty, smart, daring, happy.  The moment was ours and no one else could claim it.  We rocked.  Slowly she dozed off to sleep in my arms.

After many, many breathtaking moments, I gently got up and placed her in her beautiful bed.  She was angelic.  With Kitty in arms, she barely opened her eyes. 

There it was.  An unplanned, pure, unadulterated connection with Addison that could have only been orchestrated by our loving God.

This one’s Super Bowl-worthy, for sure.

I love the stir of the morning. 

The fog, in the figurative sense, has lifted from my now coffee-induced state and I am ready to devour what lies ahead.

Today IS the day.  At my husband's insistence and unwavering encouragement to "write", I claimed the day to do just that. I planned it. I worked hard to ensure it happened.  And here it is...my new beginning.

I wouldn't exactly say it was easy.  Gifted at some things, boundaries I'm not. I mean, how many times have you claimed "a new beginning"?  The start of a calendar year?  A milestone birthday?  At the close of a particularly difficult season of your life?  Me too...

There is no shortage of that which beckons our attention and to only complicate matters, I want a taste of all of it.  I don't want to miss a thing!  Some days I feel like Rapunzel on her first day out of the tower!  Layer on top of that my need to control many (uncontrollable) facets of my life (insert children's names here), my hunger for quality time, and my insatiable need to "perform" or "produce" to prove my worth, you've got all the makings for complete immobilization: 

Innumerable Options

 +

Must Ensure Pieces Work Seamlessly Together

+

Linger Authentically In All Relationships

+

Still Get It All Done (Well)

=

Rapunzel With Her Hair On Fire

Thank God for His grace, although it may come as no surprise to you that this concept of unmerited favor is one I'm having difficulty totally grasping.  You?

There are an endless number of ways I could have spent today and that many more opportunities to give in to real or perceived priorities - and I chose this.  I chose to spend my time doing something I feel God is calling me to do, despite the many oppositions and distractions.  As John Eldredge so poetically points out in "Waking the Dead", God promises life , but that life is opposed...there is a thief...you're going to have to fight for the life He's promised.  I would add, "and the life He's called you for." 

(I think I'll call John and see if he'll co-author a book with me, since I have it all figured out.)

We are all fighting the Enemy and his agenda for our lives...every second of every minute of every hour of every day...rather than protecting and honoring HIS agenda for our lives.  Do you recognize the Enemy?  He's incredibly slick.  He shows up as busyness, spreads out his own blanket at the church picnic, and yep, you guessed it, moves in and sets up shop in our scary dark place that we toss up as "insecurity" that disenables us from that "new start" we all so desperately crave.  He's that good.

But today I sit, among the frenzy of other people who, like me, crave value and importance to their days.  Today I explore His intentions for me.  Today I seek His Kingdom...intentionally.

Today, at least, I didn't let the intricate, complicated recipe of my idiosyncrasies dictate my day. Satan doesn't win today.

I heeded HIS call and I feel free.

What are you doing today?  Join me, in whatever way you sense God is leading YOU.

“Baby Steps.”

That’s what Marcy said to me last night as I shared my “performance addiction” related to my first entry of this project that has been over a year in the making.

Well, longer really.

But isn’t that true of any meaningful adventure? We ponder, we pray, we talk ideas over with trusted advisors. We pray some more. Don’t hear anything? The project is shelved, that is until we hear something else…a whisper, a door opening, the encouragement of a dear friend, each propelling us closer to ‘the launch’. What prevents us from just taking those first steps? Fear of failure? Desire for the approval of others? A half-baked plan that can’t be started until the entire strategy is outlined in a perfect series of work streams? For me, all of the above. Each stronghold, nestled sorely into the root of my personality, has crippled me from serving Him in the way I believe He’s calling me to serve.

Where “this” – the above referenced meaningful adventure - all REALLY started was sometime in 2006 in the office of our beloved Associate Pastor, Nancy. I was new in my walk (not new in my faith) and knew enough about scripture to not just be dangerous, but all out silly. I was at a crossroads in my life (one of the many): to continue working or stay at home with my kids. (Can I hear an "amen" from so many of you who have experienced the same dilemma?) I was working part-time in a coveted role and many would say I had the best of both worlds: 3 full days in the office and 4 full days at home with my children. Yet something was tugging on my heart and I needed to listen.

But what was I hearing? I completely lacked any ability to be objective. There was so much noise swirling around in my head and I needed Nancy (adorned in her superwoman cape) to lead me to THE place in the Bible that pointed EXACTLY to what it was I should do. I laid it all out for her…you know, the pro/con list we all make when pondering big life decisions (a.k.a. our complete and utter reliance on self). And then, I think I literally asked her if there was a verse...some specific scripture...that spelled out God’s desire for women as it related to staying at home or working. After all, He covered everything else in the great Book!

She listened intently, as Nancy does, with eyebrow raised and hands laid upon her open Bible. “So, what should I do?” Her response, likely obvious to the more spiritually mature, profoundly changed the way I listen to Him now. “I think God speaks to us in many ways…through prayer, reading scripture, conversations with friends, opportunities that open and close…”. She then went on to describe the idea of crossroads - the very point at which these “listening posts” intersect - and that when we listen…when we work to hear…we often find our answer.

Rats. I was really hoping for a verse.

And so it began. That day, in Nancy’s office, marked the beginning of what I hope to share with you here. I’m not sure what it will look like, how organized the delivery will be, or even whether or not you will find it interesting or impactful. These are simply my reflections...my stories...what I'm learning "along the way" of life.

I think I feel the shackles loosening…